Five Weeks
by Gecko Osco
Summary: Sometimes, love just isn't enough to fix what's gone wrong-luckily, that's what puppies are there for.  A story of breaking apart, coming together, and puppy-rearing. Warning: socks may have been harmed in the making of this story. USUK
1. Adoption

TITLE: Five Weeks aka How Long it Takes a Puppy to Change Everything  
>GENRE: Romanceangst, fluff  
>PAIRING(S): USUK, background barely there PrussiaHungary  
>RATING: PG-16<br>WARNINGS: relationship drama/angst, language, some sexy times, present tense, human names  
>SUMMARY: Sometimes, love just isn't enough to fix what's gone wrong-luckily, that's what puppies are there for. A story of breaking apart, coming together, and puppy-rearing. Warning: socks may have been harmed in the making of this<br>PROMPT: Alfred and Arthur adopt a puppy together.  
>NOTES: Done for the Secret Santa exchange at the USUK comm on LJ. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, lovely EllaCRose who beta'ed this story for me and did it with love! I went to town with this and went outside my usual comfort zone, but I'm very happy with the results. This story is completed and will be updated twice a week. Hope you all enjoy, especially you greeko88!<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Five Weeks <strong>

aka How Long it Takes for a Puppy to Change Everything

_Adoption_

It's all Alfred's idea, naturally.

Not that Arthur does much to dissuade Alfred out of the idea, but that's irrelevant; it's still Alfred who comes up with everything. Arthur just doesn't put up much of a fight against Alfred, mainly because he isn't able to come up with a good excuse as to why adopting a puppy is such a horrible idea – at least, not a good enough one to combat against Alfred's excitement and his own arguments for the idea. There are the standard excuses that 'puppies are high maintenance and require tons of time' and 'isn't it more practical to adopt a puppy when one lives in a house, not an apartment?' that he voices. And then there is the not-so-usual 'we're having enough problems staying together as it is, and you want to add a bloody hound into the mix', which Arthur feels like screaming in Alfred's unthinking face, but doesn't. Probably for the best—some thoughts are best left to yourself, especially when addressing the quintessential white elephant hanging between Arthur and Alfred for the past few months – the fact that, despite three years of smiling and touching, exploring and discovering each other, and living together for nearly a year, knowing that they love each other didn't always work as a fallback in the wake of their differences. Differences that grow more pronounced and unapproachable the longer they don't talk about them.

Yes, adding a dog, a dog that would be both of theirs, is never a smashing idea when all of that gets factored together. He tries to mention this, he honestly does, but then Alfred grabs his hand and tugs him close, a horribly raw and sad look in his blue eyes as he stares into Arthur's. Alfred brings up their 'rockiness' before Arthur can; it's probably the first time either of them has outright said anything about it that isn't a sniping comment or sarcastic line flung in the middle of a fight. And, in bringing it up, he argues against the thoughts and words he sees building on Arthur's tongue; a puppy would help, he was sure of it, he says. They need to work together, spend more time together than they had been lately, walk and play with it—and maybe, in doing that, they can fix things that have gone so horribly wrong. And, at the very least, having a puppy they are both attached to might keep them from making the wrong decision the next time they do fight, keep them there for a moment longer, and keep them away from the door.

Arthur still isn't sure about all that. Isn't sure of anything, but Alfred looks so damn earnest and hopeful, Arthur agrees in a way. He hasn't said no, at any rate. Secretly, he wants Alfred to be right—he's terrified of what it will mean if he isn't, if things still go south after all of this.

Arthur met Alfred three years prior, newly moved to America from London to pursue his dreams of being a correspondent with a major news network. He was working as a bartender while he was searching for anything in the news world in Boston at a local pub near Cambridge when a group of celebrating college students stumbled in. He learned from picking up bits and pieces of their conversations that they were just starting at MIT and celebrating their acceptance into, admittedly, one of the most prestigious schools for science and technology. Alfred had been hard to ignore; he was tall, blond, gorgeous, and utterly obnoxious, as well as an incorrigible and determined flirt (all characteristics he still retains). Arthur noticed how Alfred always offered to get the drinks for his table, how he always searched the bar for wherever Arthur happened to be, smiled his perfect smile and tilted his head so his hair fell just so as he leaned across the bar. It was annoying at first, mainly because he never quite knew how to respond to drunken flirting without being drunk himself – and, even then, it was generally a 'you're hot, fancy a shag?' sort of scenario. Not the coy, tasteful sort of glances and touches he got from Alfred; Arthur hadn't known what to do besides blush and stammer out some sort of response.

As the night wore on, Arthur had discovered that Alfred was not, in fact, drunk, therefore earnestly interested. He was actually quite clever himself, returning most of Arthur's quips with his own—it had all been rather endearing and left Arthur feeling flushed and ridiculously giddy. Alfred had told him how he was studying aerospace engineering and had graduated from the University of Texas at Austin. He joked with Arthur about it, asking he knew where that was in the states - which Arthur had, of course. Arthur shared that he had attended Oxford, which had suitably impressed Alfred, and why he had come to America, apart from escaping his 'pugnacious brothers.' Alfred talked about his family and twin brother fondly in response, and before they both knew it, the pub was nearly empty and Alfred's friends had abandoned him (with lewd winks and cat-calls as they headed out the door).

Alfred shrugged somewhat shyly and asked Arthur, "So, since we kinda had all the first date talk tonight, can I take you out for dinner tomorrow? I really want to kiss you right now, but I think dinner needs to come first for it to be an even awesomer first kiss."

Arthur agreed, despite the atrocious grammar. It would have been hard not to in the wake of that smile and those eyes looking up at him softly from beneath his glasses. Before he knew it, they were in love and living their lives together, something Arthur had never really imagined for himself. He was a bit of a pill, he knew that without having his mates and brothers remind him of it all the time, and he'd never really thought himself the type of man for a long-term relationship before. That had been before Alfred, though; he took to referring to his life as 'before Alfred' and 'after Alfred' since then, as sappy as that was. He still does, even though he's started to worry that 'after Alfred' will take on a different connotation if things continue as they are. Now, they're here, Alfred in the midst of getting his doctorate at twenty five, because he is _that_ sort of smart when it comes to science and space, and Arthur working with the _Boston Globe_, on his way to having his own column, even if some days that goal seems ages away. Both are on their individual ways to success and falling apart when it comes to one another, and Arthur is just as desperate as Alfred is to fix 'them' before they completely unravel.

So, here he is, in the middle of the North East German Shepherd Rescue's front lobby, sitting beside Alfred and, admittedly, a little bit excited and a little bit hopeful. He holds Alfred's hand, and there isn't anything forced in the touch of their palms, in the way their fingers link together. It feels like it's supposed to, like it had in the beginning; that more than anything makes him hope that this might not end in disaster. Maybe.

"What about Bourbon? That's a pretty kick ass name."

"Will you quit trying to name the puppy after liquor?" Arthur scolds Alfred with a glare, which Alfred promptly ignores and instead sticks his tongue out at him. He's already suggested naming the puppy Tequila Sunrise, Jack, Morgan, and Absinthe; Arthur doesn't know what Alfred's preoccupation with alcohol-themed names is, but it's getting ridiculous. "What is wrong with a simple name like Spot or Sparky?"

"Because those names are lame, Artie, and you know it. Our little guy's gotta have a kick ass, take no prisoners kind of name!" Alfred squeezes Arthur's hand and Arthur's stomach flips, doesn't clench, in warmth. "What about Jose? Oh! Gin, that sounds awesome!"

Arthur is spared from answering as one of the volunteers, a nice looking woman named Bridget, comes out and calls their names. They wave at her and rise to their feet. "Hello, boys! So, we got your application and everything's checked out fine on your, so now we can start looking a little more specific to what you're looking for. Was there an age or gender you were interested in?"

"Not really on the gender, but I think maybe younger. Art's got a cat already at home, so we don't want to cause any kind of issues there." Alfred looks over at Arthur for confirmation, still holding his hand.

"That won't be a problem, will it? I've read that German Shepherds can have problems with other dogs or animals." Arthur's cat is absolutely lazy, fat, and a big affection-whore, but he'd read on German Shepherds when Alfred confides that he really wants one of those dogs, that he has ever since he was a kid and watched how they helped rescue people during 9/11. Even though Oliver thinks everyone is his friend (especially if they can be convinced to give him food) shepherds aren't often the friendliest of dogs with the unfamiliar.

Bridget purses her lips and checks her clipboard, shaking her head as she reads. "Not if you get one young enough. We actually do have a couple of puppies right now, about three months old; did you want to look at them first?"

"Puppies? Hell yeah!"

"Yes, please, if it's not a bother. Alfred wanted a puppy, but we weren't sure what our luck would be with that at a rescue; they always go so fast." Arthur spares a polite smile for Bridget, who hides a grin at Alfred's excitement behind her hand.

"Not a bother, I promise! You picked a good day to come in, they just got released to our organization this past Thursday, haven't had a lot of people in between then and the weekend. Here, wash your hands with the sanitizer on the wall and follow me back. I'll show you to where we've got the babies set up!" She points at the Purell dispenser on the wall before she squirts some for herself and walks through a thick, metal door that all the barks had been coming from. Arthur and Alfred copy her and follow back, eyes glancing inside the different kennels set up for the shepherds the rescue has at the moment. Alfred makes a sad noise as they pass an older dog; Arthur tugs him past quickly so they don't fall too far behind. Or end up adopting the whole bloody shelter.

"Come on, love. I'm sure a handsome man like that will find his own family soon enough."

Alfred looks over at him sharply, eyes wide and a soft smile on his face. "Haven't called me that in a while."

"What?"

"Love. It's just been 'Alfred' or 'wanker' lately. Sometimes 'tosser' if you're especially cranky." Arthur feels his cheeks go warm and his palms go cold—he's right, Arthur hasn't really called him any sort of endearment recently. Not even in bed; though, the last time they'd actually been in bed and done more than sleep has been a depressingly long time past. Arthur isn't sure what to say to that; an apology seems trite, so he tightens his hold on Alfred's hand and steps a little closer as they walk together. Alfred accepts that, leaning in to press a fleeting kiss to his temple as they follow after Bridget—Arthur wonders why Alfred even mentioned anything, though. The awkward air is back between them, hovering just out of sight and pressing against the happy, affectionate bubble they'd had since they woke up that morning. Arthur can feel it, even though they are walking closer and holding tighter—fuck all.

"And here we are! We've got four still here, three boys and a girl." Arthur is grateful for Bridget's interruption and distraction; it's far easier to ignore the uncomfortable silence when faced with a bunch of adorable, yipping puppies. He lets go of Alfred's hand and walks to the edge of the raised kennel to peer over the top and into a small room where four puppies are alternating between playing and napping. Alfred makes a soft, quiet noise that sounds an awful lot like a coo as he peers inside as well; not that Arthur can fault him. They _are_ adorable. "We can let you meet them one-on-one, if you'd like? Those two napping in the corner are both boys, and we've got the girl there trying to get them to play with her—the last boy is the one going at the stuffed raccoon like it offended him."

Arthur snorts at Bridget's description as he takes in the fourth puppy, who, admittedly, is a little more entertaining to watch than the other three. He's as tall as Alfred's kneecap and has the traditional coloring, dark fur on the back and muzzle with light brown framing the dark fur. His ears look to be straightening up, which he read was normal for German Shepherds around this age, and with one ear fully pointed up and the other still half folded down and off to the side, he looks impossibly charming. His paws are already large for his size and are currently pinning down the stuffed raccoon while he gnaws at the toy's nose, little growls escaping from him. Alfred nudges Arthur and tilts his head down at the puppy; Arthur smiles softly and nods.

"Can we see that guy? The one massacring the raccoon?"

"Sure! Here, the meet and greet pen is right through that green gate. Just go on in and I'll get the little guy on a leash." Bridget flashes them a grin as she walks around the pen and enters the back to grab the puppy. Alfred grabs Arthur's hand again and drags him to the little green gate, an eager bounce in his steps; Arthur doesn't think the puppy needs to do much more to convince Alfred to adopt him. He certainly doesn't need to impress Arthur any further.

Bridget comes back with the puppy a few minutes later. "We're just calling this one Blaze right now, but you can change the name, if you want. He's just a little over three months old, and he's already been neutered, so you won't need to worry about that."

She lets him off the leash after she closes the gate behind her; Alfred immediately drops down to a crouch on the ground and holds out his hand for the puppy. The puppy wastes no time and fearlessly scampers over to Alfred and begins sniffing his hand, little yips and curious growls escaping him before he starts licking Alfred's hand. Alfred turns around and gives Arthur a 'look at that, he loves me, we can't _not_ adopt him now' sort of look before he starts petting the puppy and playing with him. Arthur watches them from where he stands by Bridget and lets Alfred play with the rambunctious puppy. "Living in an apartment won't be a problem with him, will it? I understand that he'll get quite large."

"Big breeds actually do well in apartments, believe it or not. You just want to make sure you both make time to play with him and take him on walks; shepherds are pretty active dogs, so as long as you give them plenty of exercise, apartment living won't be an issue. This breed is actually among the easiest to train as well, which definitely helps in apartment living. Though, this one's a bit more rowdy than his brothers and sisters, so you might want to keep that in mind."

"Arthur! Arthur, you have to come and say hello as co-parent! We can talk about all the boring shit with her later when we're doing paperwork to take him home!"

Arthur rolls his eyes and offers Bridget an apologetic smile before heading over. "Rowdy I can handle, as you've no doubt noticed. Yes, I'm coming, Alfred."

Alfred smiles wide at him as he kneels down beside him and holds out his hand for the puppy. "He's cute, right?"

"Quite so, yes."

"I really want him." Arthur chuckles a little as the puppy licks at his fingers and steps on his thighs to get closer to his face; Alfred's smile softens and he reaches over to ruffle the space between the puppy's ears affectionately. "I think he really wants us, too."

Arthur glances over at Alfred before he focuses back on the puppy's adorable face and playful whining as he keeps trying to lick his face. The puppy's fur is soft around his face and chest, getting a little smoother and coarser as he smoothes his hand down his back; it'll be easy getting attached to this young man, Arthur has little doubt, even being a self-proclaimed cat person. And therein lays the danger. Arthur swallows back that thought so it won't show on his face and he spares Alfred a grin. "Do you want to still look at the others or is your mind made up?"

"Well, I really like this guy, but do you? He's not just my dog, Arthur; he'll be both of ours." Alfred's eyes are easy to read, easy to look past the words to the half alluded to, shadowed meanings. Arthur feels a twinge of annoyance, but he swallows that down, too, and looks back down at the puppy.

"I don't think we need to look at any of the others." It's almost worth Alfred's passive-aggressive doubts against how willing Arthur is going to work at this in comparison to himself to see the smile Alfred gives him in response.

"Awesome. You hear that, little guy? We're gonna be your new Papas!"

"I can go ahead and get the adoption paperwork ready for you, if you want to spend a little more time with him out here. Does that sound okay?" Arthur looks up at Bridget as the puppy bounds over to Alfred, who has gotten to his feet and starts playing with him in a game of tag.

"That would be wonderful, thank you." She nods and heads out of the pen; Arthur stares at the closed gate for a moment before looking over at Alfred. He has scooped the puppy up and is grinning like a loon as the puppy squirms and licks at his face, making annoyed little noises. Alfred walks back over to the gate and sits down against the wall, letting the puppy out of his arms to chase after a stray leaf that the wind has picked up. He looks up at Arthur and holds out his hand; Arthur takes it after a moment and lets Alfred tug him down to the ground. He curls his legs under him Indian-style; Alfred rests their hands on Arthur's thigh.

"This is going to be good for us, Artie, I just know it."

Arthur gives a half smile as he watches the puppy chase the leaf. "And if it isn't?"

Alfred is quiet, which is never a good sign. Words come to him eventually, with a prelude of a heavy, sad sigh. "Then we'll figure something else out, then, if we have to."

The puppy stops chasing the leaf and bounds back over to where they sit; he growls and attacks Alfred's shoe with a happy pounce. Arthur smiles, a real one, and doesn't stiffen when Alfred laughs and leans his head against his shoulder, pushing their shoulders closer together. It feels nice, which in and of itself is nice to feel again. "We still need a name for this guy, you know. You kept saying no to all of my ideas."

"We are not naming the puppy after a brand of liquor, Alfred. People will think we're alcoholics."

Alfred chuckles and tips his head up so that he can peer at Arthur's eyes. "Well, I still have another one. What about Moonshine? We could call him Moony for short. German Shepherds kind of look like wolves a little, don't they? It'll be cool to have him named after the moon; he gets a cool, unique name that I can brag about coming up with and you get a Harry Potter reference out of it. And don't pretend you don't think that's the coolest part, I know you do."

Arthur stares at the puppy for a moment, testing the name in his mind a few times, still not thrilled Alfred is getting his way with the whole alcohol name thing but liking how Moonshine worked with the little troublemaker attacking Alfred's shoelaces. "Moonshine…Moony. Our little marauder. I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." When Alfred pushes up and kisses him, it's warm and new. When he kisses back, Alfred groans a little in victory and a lot in relief. They break apart as Bridget opens the gate again, leash in hand and smiling at them; Moonshine bounds over to greet her and they rise back to their feet, hands still clasped together between them.

TBC

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><p>Reviews are always appreciated.<p> 


	2. Week One

TITLE: Five Weeks aka How Long it Takes a Puppy to Change Everything  
>GENRE: Romanceangst, fluff  
>PAIRING(S): USUK, background barely there PrussiaHungary  
>RATING: PG-16<br>WARNINGS: relationship drama/angst, language, some sexy times, present tense, human names  
>SUMMARY: Sometimes, love just isn't enough to fix what's gone wrong-luckily, that's what puppies are there for. A story of breaking apart, coming together, and puppy-rearing.<br>PROMPT: Alfred and Arthur adopt a puppy together.  
>NOTES: Done for the Secret Santa at USUK comm on LJ. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, lovely EllaCRose who beta'ed this story for me and did it with love! I went to town with this and went outside my usual comfort zone, but I'm very happy with the results. This story is completed and will be updated twice a week. Hope you all enjoy, especially you greeko88!<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Five Weeks <strong>

aka How Long it Takes for a Puppy to Change Everything

_Week One_

Moonshine is howling. Or howling as much as a puppy can, at any rate.

Arthur groans and rolls over in their bed, blinking his eyes awake and glaring angrily at Alfred's still snoring face. He wants to hit him, to wake him up and make him go check on Moonshine, but he knows if he does, Alfred's response is going to be bringing the puppy into their bed. Arthur read all the puppy training blogs and pamphlets—that was the road of never having enough space on the bed again. He groans a second time and looks over at the clock as he gets to his feet, feeling a twinge of despair at the early hour that blinks back at him.

"Ar'hr? Wazzgoinon?"

"Go back to sleep, it's just Moony." Arthur smoothes his hand over Alfred's hair and smiles at how he mumbles sleepily before rolling face first into his pillow. Well, at least the snoring won't be so loud when he crawls back into bed. Arthur yawns and shuffles out of the room and down the hallway, making his way towards to the kitchen where they have Moonshine set up temporarily while they house-train him. Eventually, his little den area and kennel will move into their room or the front room - likely their room, if Alfred has any say in it - but for now, the kitchen is the largest space they have to pen him up in.

He turns on the kitchen light and blinks rapidly as his eyes adjusts to the sudden light change; once he can open them without discomfort, he steps over the crate barrier and into the kitchen, where Moonshine blinks up at him forlornly, letting out pitiful whines with big brown eyes. Puppy dog eyes from a puppy; there really is no defense against such a thing. He smiles and sits down in front of him to gather the puppy close to him, scratching the soft skin and fur under his jaw.

"Now, Moony, that's quite enough. You need to go to bed, or how else will you have the energy to compete against Alfred tomorrow? He's more spastic than you." Moonshine licks at his hands and settles down against his side, resting his head against Arthur's leg. "Oi, none of that! How am I supposed to tolerate Alfred's behavior if I don't get any sleep of my own?"

Moonshine is obviously not concerned in the least about Arthur's plight and lets out an adorable yawn. Arthur shakes his head and gently pets between the puppy's ears for a few silent moments. Moonshine has been home for two days, and the majority of those two days were one big adjustment period. They'd picked up the majority of their puppy supplies before going to the shelter, but they had still needed to get some toys for Moonshine, as well as some conciliatory treats for Oliver, who Arthur had known would not be pleased with the puppy for at least a few days, even with his friendly nature. It had been interesting shopping for the dog together, domestic even, and Arthur wasn't sure what to make of it. They hadn't fought and even had fun shopping, but a nagging part of Arthur's mind kept whispering doubts and worries—he'd tried to distract himself with Moonshine's curious and cute behavior at the store. For the most part, it had worked, but the feeling had remained until they had arrived back home with the puppy; Alfred would have been blind not to notice something was bothering him, but as usual, he hadn't asked. Arthur isn't sure if he's relieved or disappointed about that.

He looks down and finds that Moonshine looks close to sleep; he hushes the whimpers as he slowly maneuvers himself out from under the puppy and makes his way back out of the kitchen. The puppy whines a little, but eventually curls up on the small dog bed and blankets they'd set up for him, eyes drooping shut as sleep takes him. Arthur goes to turn off the light, hesitates, and settles for keeping the hallway light on and shutting off the kitchen light so that Moonshine still has some light, isn't shut away in complete darkness. Moonshine doesn't stir awake again, and Arthur smiles softly as he watches the puppy's breathing slow and even out with sleep.

"Sweet dreams, my little marauder," Arthur murmurs before heading back to bed.

* * *

><p>"You don't know, it could've been Lardball."<p>

"Oliver has never shown any interest in toilet paper before, and stop calling him that bloody name."

Alfred grins and hugs Moonshine close, blinking up at Arthur in time with the puppy; they're pinning him with twin puppy-dog stares. Oh, bugger them both. "Alfred, he has toilet paper stuck to his paw."

Alfred blinks and looks down. "Aw, come on, Moony! How am I supposed to defend you against Sherlock here if you don't dispose of all the incriminating evidence?"

Moonshine barks playfully and licks Alfred's cheek in response. "You dirty liar, you tried to pin this crime on Oliver when you knew it was this little ruffian."

Alfred shrugs with a teasing grin. "Who do you think had to clean up all that toilet paper?"

Arthur crosses his arms, but struggles to keep the smirk off his face and the disapproving frown on. "So you just let him get away with it?"

"Well, he had it all stuck around him and kept chasing a loose piece around in a circle, so I figured any case we could build against him would just get dismissed on an insanity plea." Arthur really can't help the laugh that escapes him.

"You're hopeless. You're going to let him become some kind of devil dog that never behaves!"

"Nah, I did give him a little scolding, let him know it was bad, kept him in the kitchen while I cleaned up. He feels really bad about it, can't you tell? So beat up over it." Alfred grins and waves his hands at Moonshine, who had decided they were entirely too boring for him and was now attacking a stuffed squirrel with a squeaker inside. "Practically in tears. We figured if you thought Lardball did it, then he'd be spared guilt from your disappointment, which is pretty bad, you know."

Alfred gets back to his feet and grins warmly at Arthur, who continues to chuckle and doesn't bother to correct Alfred's nickname for the cat, even though he hates it. They're teasing each other, exchanging playful banter back and forth; Arthur can't remember the last time they've done this. His laughs die out eventually, but his smile remains and so does Alfred's stare.

"I have heard it's frightful to be subjected to." No 'well you would know' or something equally scathing that would've left his lips a week ago if Alfred had made that same comment. But then, Alfred would've said it meaner, crueler, implying all sorts of things in so few words—his smile softens a little and he reaches out to touch at Alfred's shoulder. "How was um—your day went all right, then?"

"Meh, school is school, even if you're basically doing all your own stuff and grading undergrads. It's better now, though. Yours?"

Arthur nods and looks down from the earnest, soulful eyes. "Mine too."

* * *

><p>"You don't need to clean those up. It's my night, I think, I just haven't had time to get to it today but I can—"<p>

"It's not going to get done otherwise, so no, I'll just do it."

Sharp inhale and then quick words. "You know what, fine. Whatever, I have papers to grade and schematics to work on. I probably would use the wrong soap or put the stuff in the wrong cabinets anyway."

The door to the extra room they use as a study slams shut, rattles the pictures on the wall a little. Just enough to notice. Deep breath, exhale, and turn back to scrubbing. Moonshine whines a little from the living room and it sends wracks of hot, biting guilt through his gut. He still needs to go out on a walk, probably hasn't been played with much today; Wednesdays are always terrible for them. He finishes the dishes and leaves them to air dry before wiping his hands and grabbing the leash from the side drawer. His hands feel like they may be shaking, but a quick look shows him that they're still steady—he takes a deep breath and heads down the hallway.

Moonshine gives a couple of eager barks and follows him down to the study, the door still shut. Quick glance down, deep breath to quell the bitter taste of courage and regret, and gives a knock.

"It's open." He pushes the door open after turning the handle and stares at his back; he doesn't bother to turn around, not a great sign. But, he could've ignored him knocking, so he plows forward.

"I—was wondering if you wanted to take Moony on a walk."

"Despite what you may think, I was able to take him out today a little earlier. He hasn't been cooped up all day."

"I meant take him on a walk, with me. Together." Oh brilliant; and eloquence is supposed to be his strong suit. "We—we could find a park he may like. I didn't mean to imply that you didn't—that you were—I didn't mean it like that."

His back stiffens, whether in surprise or anger, he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything half of the time anymore—but maybe it's time he tries to change that. He turns around in his chair, his face still hurt behind the glasses, but eyeing the leash in Arthur's hand in contemplation. They stare at each other in silence, only Moonshine's impatient whines and yips punctuating the quiet, until Alfred nods his head and gets up. Arthur's stomach unclenches; funny, he hadn't known it was tied up in knots until now. He walks over to Arthur and takes the leash from his hand, not really smiling at him, but his eyes hold a sort of forgiveness that's better than any bright and empty smile he could've given. Alfred clips on the leash into Moonshine's collar and heads out the door, holding out his free hand for Arthur to take.

"You coming? You wanted to go now, right?"

Arthur doesn't move for a moment, but then nods, and takes Alfred's hand as they walk out the door. "Yes."

A leash acting as the proverbial olive branch; he supposes stranger things could've been used.

* * *

><p>Moonshine isn't a quite used to his new home yet, which is just as well, since Arthur is sure he's still getting used to him. Alfred is doing much better at adjusting to a puppy than he is, but Alfred's had dogs for most of his youth; Arthur has not.<p>

It's not that Arthur is unhappy or put out at having Moonshine there, because he isn't. The puppy's already worked himself deep into Arthur's heart and he's only been with them for six days, nearly a week. But, Arthur has never had a dog before, and he's realizing how much different owning a dog is compared to owning a cat - even a cat who acts like Oliver does. It's more work, for one thing. Moonshine has to be let out to do his business a few times a day, and Alfred's set up a schedule for taking him on walks twice a day. He needs more attention than Oliver does, and he's more vocal if he doesn't get said attention. Alfred took responsibility over training him and teaching him different tricks or commands, but he's still a puppy and wont to get into trouble, which means actively punishing him to correct bad behavior. Arthur hasn't had a full night's sleep since Moonshine's been there, either, and it's starting to wear on him.

Owning a cat is easy with a few tedious chores; owning a puppy is exhausting.

He's up again that night, stroking the soft fur between Moonshine's ears in the kitchen, only the soft light from the hallway on. He's tired, for a multitude of reasons, but sitting on the cool kitchen tile, leaning against the cabinets with Moonshine's head in his lap, his legs curled up underneath his body, feels good. Relaxing, almost. He's humming quietly and Moonshine is sleeping—Arthur isn't sure if Moonshine's whimpering woke him or if he just needed an excuse to leave the bed. Probably a bit of both. He closes his eyes, but sleep still escapes him; he _is_ sitting on the floor, though, not lying in bed, so that doesn't surprise him much. Still, it feels nice to close his eyes and rest, especially after the long week. Adding a puppy to their lives the same week he has an important deadline due for an article wasn't the best idea, and the stress builds up.

"Hey."

Arthur blinks his eyes open and meets Alfred's stare. There's a little bit of concern there, hidden within the blue.

"Hallo." He keeps his voice down for Moonshine's sake, though the puppy looks dead to the world and speaking up probably won't wake him.

"What are you doing in here? I rolled over and you were gone. Your side's all cold."

Arthur shrugs because he can't think of a better answer. "He gets lonely out here on his own. He whines a bit—he usually gets to sleep if someone's with him for a little while."

Alfred continues to stare for a few moments longer, long enough to make Arthur a little uncomfortable and look away, and then swings a leg over the crate barrier. He's off balance and clumsier than usual in his sleepy state and Arthur feels like grinning a little watching him. Only when Alfred's not looking, though—they'd fought again that day, over something stupid, as per usual. Always something stupid. They're both on edge and not handling it well, hence why Arthur is sitting in their kitchen until Moonshine stops his whimpering.

"You've been coming in here every night, uh? That's why you've been so-so grouchy in the morning. You're not getting enough sleep."

"I'm fine. It's nothing—I didn't want to wake you."

Alfred frowns and sits down next to Arthur, pressing close against his side and reaching across him to pet at Moonshine as well. Their hands brush over one another's as they pet. "You shouldn't have done it every night."

"You take care of him during the day. I don't mind."

Alfred laughs and it's a gentle sound against Arthur's ear. "Of course you don't mind, look at him! He's so fucking cute it hurts, and he knows it."

Moonshine chooses that moment to start twitching in his sleep, paws moving spasmodically as if he was chasing after something. Arthur smiles and slows down his strokes. "He's not used to the apartment yet—I want him to feel comfortable and safe."

"Aw, I don't know, he seems fine to me."

"I've been sitting with him for close to an hour, of course he's fine now."

"And I bet he was fine before, but if he knows he gets special Arthur time at night with a little whining, I wouldn't be surprised if he, you know, exaggerated a bit. He's a smart little guy, I wouldn't put it past him."

Arthur snorts but doesn't deny the words—he's probably right. Moonshine had stopped whining the moment Arthur appeared; it hadn't been like the first night, where it took a while for him to settle down. "You should go back to bed."

Alfred stays quiet for a moment before grabbing Arthur's hand and pulling it away from Moonshine. "I will, if you come with me. You're going to get horrible back pains if you stay here on the floor."

Heated and low, that's how Alfred's words hit Arthur and it sends a shiver down his spine—he can't remember the last time they spoke to one another like that. Too long, and he turns into them without thinking, mind too tired from sleep deprivation to worry over the words and wonder if it's all right to do so without addressing uglier words from earlier. He nods and lets Alfred help him to his feet, too stiff to get up on his own after sitting on the floor for so long. Alfred's hand is just as warm as his words, and Arthur wonders if he's just a little bit punch-drunk from his midnight wanderings. He climbs over the crate barrier and Moonshine continues to sleep on the floor, feet twitching and chasing in his dream world.

"I-it's really cool - that you sit with him, at night I mean." Arthur turns into Alfred's voice as they walk back to their room. "But, you don't have to do that every night. I can help, too, if he gets really fussy. Just, push me or something, if he wakes you up and not me."

They lay back down, still touching, almost holding, and Arthur doesn't want to admit that he doesn't mind checking on Moonshine, even if sleep deprivation is the result. He hums and turns toward Alfred, his eyes just barely able to make out his shape in the dark of their room; he rests the fingertips of his other hand against Alfred's chest and feels the heartbeat like a lullaby, _ba-dump ba-dump_, soft and strong. Alfred's looking at him in the dark, too, he can feel it; it doesn't make him squirm like it might have in another light. He exhales and curls in closer, close enough that he feels Alfred's chin brush against the top of his head. "We can trade off—go to sleep, it's still early."

It's anyone's guess whether those words are actually coherent or not, Arthur thinks he may be slurring a little as sleep finally starts to take over. Alfred tightens his hand just a little, though, so he understands enough. "Sweet dreams, sweetheart."

Arthur loves it when Alfred calls him that.

TBC...

* * *

><p>Reviews are love.<p> 


	3. Week Two

TITLE: Five Weeks aka How Long it Takes a Puppy to Change Everything  
>GENRE: Romanceangst, fluff  
>PAIRING(S): USUK, background barely there PrussiaHungary  
>RATING: PG-16<br>WARNINGS: relationship drama/angst, language, some sexy times, present tense, human names  
>SUMMARY: Sometimes, love just isn't enough to fix what's gone wrong-luckily, that's what puppies are there for. A story of breaking apart, coming together, and puppy-rearing.<br>PROMPT: Alfred and Arthur adopt a puppy together.  
>NOTES: Done for the Secret Santa at USUK comm on LJ. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, lovely EllaCRose who beta'ed this story for me and did it with love! I went to town with this and went outside my usual comfort zone, but I'm very happy with the results. This story is completed and will be updated twice a week. Hope you all enjoy, especially you greeko88!<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Five Weeks<strong>_

aka How Long it Takes for a Puppy to Change Everything

_Week Two_

"Moony! Quit tugging on the leash - he won't stop tugging on the leash!" Arthur looks at Alfred in frustration as he tries to bring Moonshine to heel for what has to be the sixth time already. It's starting to get ridiculous and Arthur wants to wipe the smug expression right off Alfred's face. He makes this look so easy; why the hell won't the bloody dog listen to him?

"You're not being strict enough, which is something I never thought I'd say." Arthur scowls at the dumbfounded look Alfred adopts before elbowing him. Or, tries to elbow him; Moonshine tugs hard off the paved walkway towards a tree at that moment and Arthur ends up just sort of brushing Alfred's side with his elbow. "You're just letting him go wherever he wants."

Arthur sighs and struggles back over to Alfred's side; Moonshine starts sniffing the sidewalk enthusiastically, abandoning the tree that had captured his attention before. "I'm sorry, I thought that walking him in the park implied that he would get to look where he wants."

Alfred laughs, but it's full of affection and he looks at Arthur like he's learning something he never knew before. "Oh God, you're such a puppy-virgin!"

"Ex-excuse me?"

"You can totally tell you've never had a dog before, it's hilarious!" Alfred leans in close and settles his hand over Arthur's on the leash. "Here, just follow my lead, ok?"

Arthur nods and tries not to think about how Alfred's breath smells like the burger he just ate, or how much he doesn't mind that his breath smells like burgers. Normally, it annoys him, Alfred's eating habits, but right now it doesn't. The last few days have been good, like Arthur remembers before they stopped talking. It's a little awkward walking with Alfred's hands over his, their legs touching with every step they take; Arthur's reminded of a three-legged race, and he smiles to himself before focusing back on Alfred's instructions.

"Ok, now, he's a little guy, but that doesn't mean he can't take some force. Wrap your hand around the leash, like this," Alfred loops the leash around Arthur's wrist once before settling his hand back on top of his. "This way, you have more control and it's easier to keep him from running off. Now, if he tries to tug against the leash, you want to square your feet, like this, and use his name to bring him back over. If he needs a little encouragement, tug him back with a little bit of pressure until he's looking over at you; it's not yanking and it won't hurt him, even if he whines at you. If all else fails, I'll wrap the leash in my grip until I'm level with him and show him to heel that way. He's pretty good, though; he's just messing with you because he knows he can."

Alfred steps away and lets go of his hand with a small, supporting grin. He's waiting for Arthur to follow his advice, doesn't want to swoop in and take over like he normally does when he knows how to do something better than someone else. Alfred's hero complex is both endearing and aggravating, depending on the situation and Arthur's mood. Moonshine scampers off after a movement in a bush and Arthur squares his feet quickly, holds onto the leash firm and doesn't give when Moonshine pulls and whines at the restriction. "Moony… Moonshine."

Two chocolate warm eyes turn back to meet him after a few moments of tug o' war. "Come back."

"Use 'heel.' I've been using that and he responds to it; German Shepherds are really good at following commands, but you want to be consistent."

Arthur nods. "Moonshine, heel."

It takes a few moments, but Moonshine does what he's told eventually. He trots back over to the path and stops in front of Arthur's feet, looking up with a puppy-grin and wagging his tail. Arthur crouches down and rubs at his fur affectionately, smiling down at the puppy in fondness. "That's a good lad, Moony."

Moonshine's tongue lolls out in happiness and he licks at Arthur's hands until he stands back up; Alfred's looking at him, and it's so tender, Arthur feels his throat constrict just a tiny bit. He cocks his head to the side and starts walking down the path again, Moonshine walking happily beside him and Alfred falling into step on the other side. "Something like that, then?"

"Yeah, something like that." His hand reaches out and grabs Arthur's. Arthur smiles before looking forward again, his hand tightening around Alfred's instinctually. It's not forced, the air and moment between them, and Arthur has to bite at his cheek to keep the goofy smile from forming. Maybe they aren't talking like they need to, still skirting around each other when they shouldn't, but they're also noticing each other again, picking out the little quirks and details that had gotten lost before. Moonshine barks at a leaf in the wind, and Arthur tightens his hold on either side.

* * *

><p>"You really shouldn't feed him scraps, Alfred."<p>

"It's little pieces of cooked chicken, it's fine. Stop worrying so much, he deserves a little treat for being such a brave guy at the vet's office today. Weren't you, Moony-boy? Yes you were, you hardly squirmed or whined at all when they kept sticking you with all those nasty shots." Arthur is loath to admit it, but Alfred's puppy-talk to Moonshine is strangely charming; he can't help the soft smile and doesn't quite lock it away in time for Alfred not to notice. "What?"

"Nothing. Are you sure that's all right?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm only giving him little pieces and it's not seasoned with anything. I promise, it's not gonna hurt him."

Arthur nods and watches him feed Moonshine a few more small pieces of chicken. Oliver wanders over, which surprises no one because where there is food, there is Oliver, and meows plaintively up at Alfred. Moonshine glances over for a moment to take in Oliver before turning his full attention back to Alfred, tongue lolling out and letting out soft, adorable little noises. Alfred gives another piece of chicken to Moonshine before he straightens up in his chair; Arthur rolls his eyes and gives him a disapproving look. "So you're just going to ignore Oliver? That hardly seems fair, after giving all those scraps to Moonshine."

"Lardball doesn't need any more food. I'm trying to discourage his begging ways."

"By encouraging another to start?" Alfred has the good grace to blush a little as Arthur quirks his lips up in a smirk.

"That's not—I mean I'm just—whatever."

"I suddenly understand why all the dogs at your parents' home sit on whatever couch they want and all beg around the dinner table." Arthur grins and clicks his tongue a few times to get Oliver's attention. The cat perks up and waddles over immediately, bushy tail curling back and forth as he looks up hopefully at Arthur. He breaks off a small piece of chicken and feeds it to the cat, keeping a firm eye on Moonshine to make sure he doesn't try to bowl Oliver out of the way for the chicken. He's seen the retrievers at the Joneses'; he doesn't put it past Moonshine to muscle poor Oliver out of the way for the scrap—even if Oliver is nearly the same size as the puppy.

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe we can just put it in his food dish or something. And get Lardball on a diet." Alfred grins and pushes around the peas on his plate. "Kind of speaking of my parents, they uh, they wanted to know if we're going back home for Thanksgiving this year."

"It's August, Alfred." Arthur feels something loosen in his stomach a little, a worry he hadn't even been aware he had. They hadn't talked about the holidays at all recently, not even the small ones—it's a big deal that Alfred is bringing them up now.

"Yeah, I know, but you know how they are. So, uhm, what did you want me to tell them?"

Arthur meets Alfred's nervous gaze across the table and reaches out to grab his hand. He gives it a brief squeeze before settling back against his chair and looking back down at his chicken as he cuts off a bite-sized piece. "That'd be lovely."

Arthur doesn't need to look up to know that Alfred's smiling.

* * *

><p>Arthur is playing tug-o-war with Moonshine in the front room, but it's not with any of the toys or play ropes they've bought him. No, it's with a pair of Arthur's socks. Well, really just one sock of the pair; Arthur's wearing the other one. He's not running late for work quite yet, but he's heading that way and he really doesn't want to get another pair of trouser socks. He likes the black ones, they go well with the dark blue slacks and the black button down he has on; they also don't bunch at the bottom after a full day of walking because Arthur is just too damn young to contemplate wearing sock garters, but he hates the bunching.<p>

Unfortunately, he's not winning the battle for his sock.

"Moonshine! Bloody dog, give that here!" Moonshine clamps down tighter on the sock and raises his backside high in the air, playfully growling at Arthur despite the frustration beginning to mount. "Moonshine, bad dog, bad! Give me the bloody sock!"

Arthur makes a grab for it, but Moonshine scampers away and down the hall. "Fiend! You're getting locked in the kitchen for this!"

Arthur is stomping down the hall and towards the office when Alfred walks out to meet him, a squirming puppy under one arm and a slobbery sock in the other. Arthur can tell he's struggling not to smile; he's failing terribly. "I think this is yours?"

Arthur snatches the sock out of Alfred's hand and glares at the wet patches and the saliva; there's no way he can put that sock on his foot, no matter how much he likes the socks. It needs to be washed—he turns the glare on Moonshine and then Alfred in turn. Alfred chuckles and adjusts his hold on Moonshine, who's whining pitifully and unhappy with his current predicament. Arthur refuses to soften and feel sympathy for the mutt; he absolutely refuses.

"So, good thing he didn't chew any holes, right? I mean, he ruined that one slipper of mine last week but—I mean, you just got to wash this and it'll be fine."

"These are my favorite dress socks."

"I know—they don't bunch, right?"

"And that thief stole it right out of my hand."

"But it's not ruined! Highlight the positive!"

"And now I need to wear a pair of the knobby black dress socks _your_ friend Gilbert gave me for my birthday this year, which do bunch, because _your_ dog massacred the good pair." Alfred's not even trying to hide his smile now; instead, he's biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

"I know you're kind of annoyed right now, and he's your dog, too, even when he's misbehaving, but can I just say that you're sort of adorable walking around and glaring with only one sock on and your tie all half done?" Arthur blinks at Alfred and starts to flush a little at the words, at the blatant admiration and affection shining through from behind Alfred's glasses.

"That's—well clearly it's just—"

Alfred grins and steps close, completely ignoring Moonshine's struggles and leaning in to kiss Arthur quick and hard on the mouth. "Yeah, I know. I'll wash them today and make sure this guy stays away from temptation."

He leans in and kisses him again and Arthur feels heat pool in his stomach from the simple touch; he wonders how long it's been since he and Alfred kissed in the morning, or kissed with more emotion than what is needed for perfunctory greetings. A groan slips from him as Alfred moves away, which really just results in Alfred dropping Moonshine to the ground and wrapping Arthur up close. Arthur meets him, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck even though he's still holding the slobbery sock. "I'm going to be late…"

"Blame it on the puppy."

Arthur can't help but grin into Alfred's mouth.

* * *

><p>"Today was good, right?" Arthur glances over at Alfred from where he's reading on the couch. Alfred's got the television on but isn't paying much attention to whatever show is playing. Instead, Alfred's sitting on the floor and petting Moonshine softly as the puppy gnaws and chews on a Kong toy they stuffed with some peanut butter, his eyes far away and troubled. "I mean, the training class went really well with Moony, and it was nice going to the park afterwards. We haven't seen Elizaveta and Gilbert for a while."<p>

"You saw them last weekend. I saw Elizaveta at work yesterday."

"I mean together. We haven't seen them together in a while. Both of us, not them because, just yeah. Am I making any sense?"

Arthur sets aside his book and takes off his reading glasses, glancing quickly as Oliver hops onto the couch next to him and goes belly-up. Arthur scratches the tummy distractedly. "Not really, no."

"I just—I mean, aside from us doing stuff with Moonshine lately, we haven't done a lot of stuff together for a while." Alfred looks so painfully sincere and vulnerable that Arthur feels a swell of guilt for the observation, which is ridiculous because it takes two to not hang out together. "It was nice, you know, today when we met up with Liz, Gil, and Maximus after puppy class. It was good for Moony, too, spending time with another dog, even if Maximus isn't the brightest Great Dane of the litter. But yeah, hanging out together again was pretty nice."

_Like__a__couple_ goes unsaid, but Arthur hears it. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't want to say the wrong thing and have everything go balls up, because Alfred's right. Today had been nice; Arthur doesn't want to ruin it. "It-it was, nice, that is."

"Yeah. Do you—why do you think that is? That we haven't really hung out, I mean."

"Our schedules or-or—" Arthur finds he doesn't have another throwaway reason in his arsenal. He only has the truth, which is something they've both become experts at avoiding. The words were out of him before he could think better of it. "Or the fact that we probably haven't wanted to."

Alfred laughs, surprisingly enough, and leans back a little against the other couch, his neck extending back to expose the swell of his Adam's apple. Arthur had expected a frown or a hurt response at the very least, not laughter; true, the laughter isn't exactly 'funny haha' sort of laughter, but it is still leaning towards amused. "Or that."

"I'm sorry, but why the blazes are you laughing?" Arthur wants to sound angry, but mostly he just sounds confused to his own ears. "I just commented on the fact that we'd rather not spend time together and you laugh?"

"I know but—it's kind of nice, you know? Getting it out there? I mean, we spend all our time tiptoeing around the fact that we're a little fucked up it just makes everything worse and actually getting it out there—well, it's kind liberating." Alfred shakes his head and smiles at Arthur, meets his eyes and shrugs his shoulders before getting up from the floor and walking over. He scoots Oliver off to the side, which earns him an unamused look from the cat, and sits down next to Arthur, resting his elbow on the back of the couch. Moonshine keeps going at the Kong toy on the other side of the room, little grunts and high-pitched growls drifting over to them occasionally.

"And you think that's a good thing?"

"I think it's a better thing than ignoring each other and keeping it all inside until one of us starts yelling all irrationally because of day old dishes." Alfred smiles ruefully at Arthur, passively reminding him of their fight a week ago. "We don't really talk much anymore and maybe—maybe that's part of the problem."

It is; maybe not talking along with living together, getting used to each other's habits, and trying to reconcile that they are heading towards a type of commitment that is, frankly, terrifying is making everything worse. Making them worse. Arthur doesn't know how to say any of this though; he's always been absolute shit at this sort of thing. His brothers will certainly attest to that, along with the string of exes left behind in England. So, he settles for a sad sort of smile that feels more like a grimace and rests his hand against Alfred's leg—Alfred sighs but doesn't press. He doesn't know how to say anything, either; what a pair they're turning out to be.

Moonshine has noticed he's been abandoned and hurries over to them, Kong forgotten on the floor, leaving Oliver to sniff and lick away any peanut butter remnants. Moonshine's smiling the only way a puppy can and places his paws on the couch in between their bodies; he hesitates for only a moment, obviously expecting one of them to push him off, before hopping up to join them, settling comfortably in the wedge between them. Alfred laughs and ruffles his ears and fur and Arthur pets down his back in smooth, measured strokes.

"We'll never be able to get him off the couches now."

"Meh, the couches are crap anyway."

They share a small, private look that says and hides so much, and return their attention to Moonshine. He's much more pleasant to focus on anyway.

TBC…

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><p>Spread Christmas spirit and review!<p> 


	4. Week Three

TITLE: Five Weeks aka How Long it Takes a Puppy to Change Everything  
>GENRE: Romanceangst, fluff  
>PAIRING(S): USUK, background barely there PrussiaHungary  
>RATING: PG-16<br>WARNINGS: relationship drama/angst, language, some sexy times, present tense, human names  
>SUMMARY: Sometimes, love just isn't enough to fix what's gone wrong-luckily, that's what puppies are there for. A story of breaking apart, coming together, and puppy-rearing.<br>PROMPT: Alfred and Arthur adopt a puppy together.  
>NOTES: Done for the Secret Santa at USUK comm on LJ. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, lovely EllaCRose who beta'ed this story for me and did it with love! I went to town with this and went outside my usual comfort zone, but I'm very happy with the results. This story is completed and will be updated twice a week. Hope you all enjoy, especially you greeko88!<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Five Weeks<strong>_

aka How Long it Takes for a Puppy to Change Everything

_Week Three_

Owning a dog is worlds apart from owning a cat. Arthur had known this before, of course, but in a peripheral sort of way. It hadn't applied to him before Moonshine, and if he's honest with himself, he never thought it would have, but now it does, and he's still struggling to keep up with the changes, even after a few weeks. It's easy for Alfred since he's always owned dogs—a dog doesn't have the same independence as a cat, and while it comes easy to Alfred, Arthur labors to adjust and make time for the little puppy. Well, little isn't exactly a word he uses to describe Moonshine. Arthur suspects he'll likely grow up to be huge if his paws are any indication, but he's still a puppy and therefore 'little' in his mind. It's not easy, especially when he and Alfred both have full lives and a hard time making time for each other, but Arthur tries his best and makes use of any free time he happens to get.

Before, he would have read a book or watched a news program on the telly, but now he makes a concentrated effort to play with Moonshine or take him on a walk. It can be stressful, but he's trying as best he can—he can feel Alfred's eyes on him when he returns from a walk, when he's been too swamped with papers or projects and can't join. It's not an uncomfortable stare, and whenever he manages to get a peek at it, before it gets averted and Alfred swings back to his papers with comical concentration, it's always soft and warm. Like he's proud of Arthur, proud for making time to walk their dog—Arthur likes the feeling, but it also implies that maybe Alfred didn't truly think he would try to adjust. Or maybe that's just Arthur's own self-deprecation peeking through, he doesn't know. Regardless, it's been a challenge getting used to Moonshine the last few weeks, but he likes to think he's been successful thus far.

Which is why it's so difficult not to lose his temper when he walks into the bathroom and finds the trash basket flipped over and all the contents spilled out over the floor. And, of course, the contents include an old bottle of Alfred's shampoo he'd thrown out the previous day that has spilled from its container, a sticky mess all over the floor and Arthur's foot. He can do nothing but stare for a few moments in a half-awake stupor, but then anger starts to settle and he furiously wipes off his foot on a towel hanging from the door. Alfred had said that Moonshine was probably ready to be allowed out of the kitchen at night, especially since they'd had no issues with setting him up on a bathroom schedule, but apparently he's wrong. Arthur finishes cleaning off his foot and then wipes up the mess off the floor—there is nothing more disgusting than having to pick up chewed bits of used tissues, he decides after a scant few minutes.

Once done, he balls up the towel and stomps over to the laundry basket in their bedroom closet; he debates whether or not to wake Alfred up so he can deal with punishment, but decides against it when he catches how completely exhausted he looks. Frown firmly in place, he walks back out and spots Moonshine curled up in the kitchen—he's whining in a pitiful manner that reminds Arthur of crying and there's a small puddle of bile next to him. Any anger Arthur has drains from him and he drops down beside him to cup Moonshine's head. He shouts for Alfred and pets at Moonshine's head and stomach worriedly—bloody fuck, he probably ate some of the damn shampoo. That can't be good for a dog, a puppy especially; it's practically poison, fuck. He calls for Alfred again, louder, the waver and fear more pronounced in his voice this time, and a few moments later, Alfred comes rushing out, baseball bat in hand.

"Arthur? What's going—?"

"Moony got into the bathroom trash and got into that damn shampoo in the basket and he's sick and I don't—"

"Ok, ok, just, deep breaths okay, Artie?" Alfred drops down and cups Arthur's face in his hands, running his thumbs under his eyes at the tears there he hadn't even noticed. "Deep breaths—do you know if he got sick anywhere else?"

Arthur shakes his head and feels a hundred times worse. "No, I saw him and just—"

"Shh, all right, lemme just go check real quick." He leaves and Arthur is left stroking Moonshine's head and trying to make comforting noises. He hears Alfred swear and then footsteps down the hall to the linen closet, the sink faucet in the bathroom sounds a moment later; he must've found more vomit. His stomach clenches tight and his hand starts to shake.

Alfred walks back in with the soiled towel and cleans up the bile off the kitchen floor, face fully awake and a little drawn; he looks tired, but not fearful. "He threw up in the living room, but that's it. I don't think he ate very much before he figured out it was a bad idea."

"Should we take him to the vet?"

Alfred tosses the ruined towel in the kitchen sink before crouching down onto the floor besides Moonshine; his hands settle over Arthur's and he smiles gently, comfortingly. "Give it until the morning. Puppies eat stuff they shouldn't all the time, he looks pretty miserable, but he's breathing ok and isn't vomiting anymore. This stuff kind of comes with the territory—I'm sorry, sugar, I should've closed the bathroom door, I didn't think the trash had anything other than Kleenexes in it."

Arthur shakes his head, meeting Alfred's eyes for the first time. They're warm and proud, but Arthur doesn't feel any niggling doubt about why they look that way right now—it's just love, love that Arthur cares so much and is worrying himself sick over their little puppy who's too curious for his own good. And that makes him feel even worse. "It's not, I didn't empty it, I didn't think and half the time I feel as if I don't know what I'm doing and—"

Alfred kisses him then and it's exactly what Arthur needs, even if he hadn't known he needed it. It's calm and love and forgiving all at once, even though he knows Alfred probably doesn't think Arthur has done anything to forgive. He knows Arthur needs it, though—it's funny how easy it is to remember what they each need, even if they've spent the majority of the last three months forgetting. It's like riding a bicycle or a boomerang; it just comes back. "It's fine, sweetheart. It's fine, and little Moony here will be fine, too, and if he's still feeling sick tomorrow, we can both take him to the vet, all right?"

"Okay."

"Okay. Come on, it's late, we should get back to bed."

"We can't—it's just—he shouldn't be left here on his own." Alfred's eyes are almost shining in the hallway light and he smiles wide enough for both of them.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He grabs Arthur's hand and pulls him up to his feet before crouching back down and scooping Moonshine up carefully. The puppy doesn't get sick, just focuses sad, unhappy eyes on Arthur before licking Alfred's hand in what can only be gratitude. He licks Arthur's hand when he reaches out to smooth back his ears and Arthur doesn't even care that the last thing on his tongue was vomit; he smiles with tears clouding his vision and follows Alfred back towards their room. Alfred settles the puppy at the end of the bed, near both of their feet and climbs back in, holding out his arms for Arthur to follow. He does, noticing Oliver has wandered over from the living room and hops up onto the bed as well, curling next to Moonshine. It is adorable and it makes Alfred chuckle a little along with Arthur.

"He'll be all right? You're certain?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine, and if he's not, then we'll take him in so he will be."

Arthur nods and instead of rolling over to his side, curls a little further into Alfred's arms, resting his face in the crook of Alfred's neck; Alfred's arms tighten around him in response.

* * *

><p>Moonshine ends up being fine the next morning, though they still take him to the vet just to be sure. He also ends up sleeping in their bed instead of the perfectly good dog bed they bought him, which is an unfortunate side effect neither Arthur nor Alfred can get truly upset over.<p>

* * *

><p>Taking Moonshine to PetsMart is something Arthur likens to parents taking their excitable toddlers to Toys R' Us. Chaotic, nerve-wracking, and wallet-emptying. It doesn't help that Alfred is as hyperactive as a toddler might be and feels the need to dart back and forth between aisles excitedly, working up Moonshine as he goes. Arthur's got the leash in his hands and is trying, in vain he thinks, to keep Moonshine from knocking over shelves and getting too personal with other dogs wandering around. Alfred's pushing the trolley, though Arthur uses the word 'push' loosely—Alfred prefers to push off the ground and glides on it as if it were a ride. He wonders why they're already back at the bloody store when they're still plenty stocked up on food and supplies—at the rate they're going, Moonshine will end up the most spoiled dog in all of Boston.<p>

"Hey, look at these! Dog treats that look like toothbrushes. Oh hell, we've gotta get these!" Arthur glances over at the bag labeled 'Greenies' in Alfred's hands. Sure enough, the treats do look like mini toothbrushes; he reads the front label and raises his eyebrows when he reads that these treats are meant to help a dog's teeth as well. He shakes his head, thinking about all the treats they've already bought for Moonshine (and Oliver, though the fat cat doesn't need more treats) stuffed in their cabinets.

"Moonshine has plenty of treats, Alfred. We don't need to buy enough to stockpile for three years."

"But—but toothbrushes, Artie!"

Arthur sighs, fondly, and takes the bag from Alfred's hands, placing it back on the shelf. Alfred pouts at it before following after Arthur has he makes his way towards the food aisle. Moonshine glances back and lets out a sound that can only be categorized as longing. Arthur quirks a look down at the puppy, unimpressed. "You have plenty of treats, Moony-boy. Don't listen to your Da."

Alfred chuckles. "So I'm his dad, uh?"

Arthur blushes but doesn't try to retract his words. "Well, what else did you think you were?"

"The cool uncle who gives him all the table scraps he wants, of course!" He's joking, Arthur can hear it in his voice, and his eyes have gone warm all over as he meets Arthur's eyes. "But I guess dad works too—I'll just be the cool uncle with Lardball."

"His name is Oliver, you twat, and you're the evil step-dad at best with him. He hates you and you purposely 'forget' to give him table scraps."

"He's fat, he doesn't need them. I'm just doing him a favor!" Alfred's smile tempers his words and his shoulder bumps Arthur's affectionately.

It feels nice, shopping for dog food and a blanket to place on their bed for Moonshine. Much better than their last visit here, when Moonshine had been brand new to both of them and the gap between them had been larger. This conversation might've annoyed him and made him snap if they'd had it three weeks ago; Alfred's energy would have come across as cloying and aggravating, and he's sure he would've come across as mean and waspish to Alfred. Now, though, it simply doesn't. It's like they've found a way to talk again; sure, they're not really talking about things they maybe should (apart from the off mention from Alfred last week, they've been quite mum on the subject), but they're still talking. Which is more than what they'd been doing before.

Moonshine gives a small bark as they walk past the chew toy aisle; he looks up at the pair of them with huge, brown eyes before back into the toy aisle. He repeats this motion until both Alfred and Arthur are laughing hard and loud enough to attract attention. Alfred nudges at Arthur and moves the cart so it'll continue towards the dog food aisles. "We might as well get him something, otherwise he'll just pout the whole way home."

"He has enough toys already. I think he's even commandeered some of Oliver's."

"Like Lardball plays with that mouse anyway, that would mean exercise. Here, I'll go get the food, you let him pick out a toy, and we'll meet at the front of the store; we've already got the other stuff we needed, we'll remove temptation better this way!"

Alfred kisses him instead of letting him respond, and pushes the cart down the store, disappearing around a corner a moment later. Moonshine barks at him again and Arthur shakes his head indulgently at him before heading into the aisle. "Fine, you little brat. Let's pick something out, yeah? Something that will distract you from poor Oliver's toys."

They walk down the aisle for a few moments, Moonshine happily sniffing nearly everything in reach, and Arthur's eyes are drawn to a large, stuffed dragon hanging about eye level on the shelf. It's large, nearly as large as Moonshine is, and has little pockets all up and down its underside; Arthur presses in on a pocket and a squeak emits from the toy. Moonshine immediately stops sniffing and perks his ears up at the toy. "This one, lad?"

Arthur pushes a squeaker again and Moonshine whines yearningly in response. He grins and pulls it off the hanger—the toy doesn't have much stuffing and looks more like a mat than anything else, but it has enough. He shares a conspiratorial grin with Moonshine as they head up towards the front of the store. "Make sure you play with this when Da's at home."

Moonshine barks as if in affirmation and wags his tail happily as they head up towards the cash registers.

* * *

><p>When Arthur gets home from work that Friday, there is stuffing all over the living room and remnants of plastic squeakers littering the floor; the steady sound of squeaking is coming from their bedroom. He sets his coat and messenger bag down on the dining room table and strolls victoriously down the hall to the office, where he finds Alfred frowning at a complicated blue print. He clears his throat and leans against the doorframe, smirking when Alfred turns to greet him with a scowl on his face. "You're a jackass, I hope you know that."<p>

"Whatever do you mean?"

"That fucking dragon—how many damn squeakers does a toy need to have?"

"Ah, well, you did say to let Moony pick out whatever he liked, I simply followed those instructions. He hasn't been playing with it all day, has he?"

"Oh ho, you think you're _soooo_ funny. I know you put him up to it! This is revenge, isn't it, for insulting Lardball's weight?"

Arthur can't help but laugh. He walks into the office and settles in front of Alfred spread knees; he goes to lean back against the desk, but Alfred's hand stop him, grabbing onto his waist and tugging him down onto his lap in a smooth, not-so-graceful movement. Their foreheads nearly hit, but they're both laughing; Arthur wraps his arms around Alfred's neck for balance, among other things, and Alfred tucks his chin on Arthur's shoulder. He feels a little guilty about getting the obnoxious toy, but only a little because Alfred isn't angry, not really. Especially when Moonshine waddles in with the huge toy clutched in his teeth, walking bow-legged to accommodate for the toy's size, nearly as big as he is.

"Oh Jesus, he looks so freaking adorable." Alfred's laughing into Arthur's neck, peeking out at Moonshine, who does look truly ridiculous, in between breaths. "Why would anyone make a toy that big with so many squeakers?"

Arthur doesn't have an answer, so he joins in laughing with Alfred until their mouths press together. There's a pause that catches both of them when they separate and they stare at each other, close as can be with heat pooling where they're touching. They move back in, intent different and inhales coming sharp and fast through their noses, and kiss in a way that they haven't kissed in months. It feels new and familiar all at once, and Arthur finds he'd missed the stale taste of Alfred's toothpaste on his tongue. He shifts, just a little, just enough to let Alfred's hands settle more firmly on his waist, and angles his head down, sucking Alfred's bottom lip in between his teeth and swallowing up the broken moan that leaves the American's mouth. Alfred's hand spreads strong across the small of his back and he pulls Arthur in until every inch of them is touching, pushing the chair back with his toes distractedly until the back of the chair hits the edge of the desk.

They kiss wild and messily, hands grabbing and bunching up the clothes between them, garbled gibberish sounding in the small moments their lips separate from one another's that are like Arthur imagines touch would sound like. He's getting all mixed up in his head, mixing senses together with every heated press and stroke; the chair is much too cramped and uncomfortable for this, but they can't move. Or, maybe it's they won't move—either way, Arthur doesn't much care that he'll have horrible sore legs and knees from how they're straddling Alfred's lap and pressing uncomfortably against the chair's arms. Alfred's lips trail sloppily from Arthur's mouth and move down his neck; all Arthur can do is tilt his head back and hold onto Alfred tighter. They'll have to move eventually, he knows that and is looking forward to it because where they move to will likely be the bed, but for the moment, the chair is perfect. They are perfect.

Moonshine picks up his toy and waddles back out of the room after a few moments—the last coherent thought Arthur has before he's swept fully away into Alfred is that it's sweet of the puppy to give them some privacy.

TBC...

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><p>Reviews are love.<p> 


	5. Week Four

TITLE: Five Weeks aka How Long it Takes a Puppy to Change Everything  
>GENRE: Romanceangst, fluff  
>PAIRING(S): USUK, background barely there PrussiaHungary  
>RATING: PG-16<br>WARNINGS: relationship drama/angst, language, some sexy times, present tense, human names  
>SUMMARY: Sometimes, love just isn't enough to fix what's gone wrong-luckily, that's what puppies are there for. A story of breaking apart, coming together, and puppy-rearing.<br>PROMPT: Alfred and Arthur adopt a puppy together.  
>NOTES: Done for the Secret Santa at USUK comm on LJ. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, lovely EllaCRose who beta'ed this story for me and did it with love! I went to town with this and went outside my usual comfort zone, but I'm very happy with the results. This story is completed and will be updated twice a week. Hope you all enjoy, especially you greeko88!<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Five Weeks<strong>_

aka How Long it Takes for a Puppy to Change Everything

_Week Four_

The week doesn't start off auspiciously.

Arthur's got two big deadlines this week, one of which is not his story to begin with and had been shunted off to him by Francis, the French bastard, who never passes up an opportunity to flaunt his seniority over Arthur. He'd spilled coffee all over his favorite tie, and his messenger bag got ripped on a trashcan in the subway. He's stressed and a wee bit frazzled and trying desperately not to bring it home with him, but he's failing nearly every night. He's snappish and easily irritable and not getting enough sleep to compensate for the hours he's pulling at the office each day. It doesn't help that Alfred's been just as busy with a project for his dissertation and not as willing to put up with Arthur's moods.

He feels like the progress they've been making is slipping away in the wake of their work and tempers, but Arthur doesn't know how to stop it. Oliver, well used to their fighting by now, has taken residence under the bed and doesn't come out save to eat and use his litter box. Moonshine, though, he doesn't understand the change in the apartment, doesn't know his owners quite well enough yet to know that they're speeding towards a fight, one that will likely be explosive, and that more than anything makes Arthur feel like shit. Things had been going well the last few weeks, something Arthur had hoped for but hadn't really expected to happen just because they adopted a puppy. Now, though, now he's worried they're about to ruin all that they've crossed, the space that they've bridged, so to speak, and he hates that he can't voice the right words to try and stop it.

The living room is quiet, so that's where Arthur sets up his laptop and tries to finish the last minute touches on his article about the recent protests going on due to tuition hikes at the local universities. Alfred's music is loud and Arthur can hear it through the walls—he knows Alfred works best with background noise, but it grates on Arthur's already frayed nerves. Deep breath, old chap, he whispers to himself in his head, and proceeds to follow his own, silent instruction. It doesn't really help, but he feels like it should have, which just serves to frustrate him further. He takes another, ineffectual, deep breath and focuses every iota of his attention on his article so that it will be ready for tomorrow's deadline. The _thump-thump-thump_ of Alfred's music is still present, but starting to settle on the edge of his mind as he types and edits—it's already half past nine, he really hopes to get this finished before midnight.

Moonshine whines and hops up onto the couch next to him, sitting up straight and staring at Arthur with the single-minded righteousness of a child who wants attention. "Not now, Moony. Go on."

Arthur shoves a little at the puppy, but Moonshine is unaffected. He moves closer, close enough that Arthur can feel the puppy breath on his neck and makes little growls and yips until all Arthur can do is turn to face the puppy. He's glaring, but it's impossible to keep any real heat in it at Moonshine's face—he truly is too cute for anyone's own good. "Fine, yes, hello Moonshine. Look, I'm petting you, all right? There, happy? Now shoo, bugger off; go see your Da."

Moonshine does not follow Arthur's directions. Instead he yawns and settles down right up against Arthur's leg and hip, his front paws dangling off the couch a little. Arthur stares at him as he wiggles a little until he's found a comfortable spot, yawning once more for good measure before he closes his eyes sleepily. Arthur's hand moves of its own accord and the next thing he knows, he's petting Moonshine in gently strokes, neck to tail, until the puppy's breathing steadies into a rhythm synonymous with sleep. Arthur keeps petting afterwards, even though he knows he needs that hand to finish typing (he supposes he could type one hand, but he imagines he'll just cause more errors that way, not fix them).

The music is still too loud, he's still tired and has too much on his plate this week, and the air in the apartment is still too thick with tension to be relaxed, but he feels a bit better with Moonshine sleeping tight against him. Not good, but better. It's funny, how simple a thing as a puppy sleeping up against you, trusting you and comforting you without truly understanding all that is wrong but knowing it nonetheless, can change things. Arthur always appreciates when Oliver curls up with him and purrs, but it's different with Moonshine—maybe because he's younger, maybe because he's more affectionate than Oliver is, maybe because he belongs to him _and_ Alfred. His eyes go a little misty and he tells himself it's just because he's a little stressed or that he's been staring at computer screens for too long; he sniffs and clears his throat, turning back to his article and reading through his words with the harshest eyes he can muster.

He keeps petting Moonshine, and it helps keep unwanted and completely inconvenient tears from falling.

* * *

><p>The fight comes on Friday.<p>

It starts, as these things usually do, with something innocuous, something that's normally inconsequential and nothing to get worked up over. It starts with Alfred's shoes in the doorway, where he generally likes to toe them off after he gets back, and where Arthur trips over them when he gets home, tired and cross, hours later. It also starts with the complete mess Arthur had left the office in the night before, where he'd done some last minute research on the university protests at one in the morning to make sure he had enough credible sources for the story. They're both stretched too thin and they both didn't need a mess waiting for them when they got home.

Arthur isn't sure who actually started it, because they'd both been sniping at each other the moment they were both home, and they'd continued sniping at each other through dinner. The next thing he knows, they are screaming at each other and dinner is a mess on the table instead of on the plates where it belongs, and Arthur's sure one of their neighbors is going to call and complain about them any moment now. Arthur isn't even really sure what they're yelling about at this point (maybe something about clutter and dishes, whatever it is, it certainly doesn't warrant the anger they're spewing), but then it takes a turn for the worst and the next thing he hears _feels_ like an anvil dropped in his stomach.

"If you can't fucking stand me or 'my mess,' then why the hell are you still here? Jesus, Arthur—I can't…I don't know what you want me to do and I—fuck."

They're both silent and staring and Arthur feels self-hatred settle right next to the anvil in his stomach at how Alfred's eyes are wet and darker blue than usual. "I don't… I didn't say that—"

Arthur trails off, too afraid to voice the fears, doubts, and insecurities he feels into words. He doesn't hate Alfred, he could _never_ hate him and somewhere along the way, he's forgotten how to show that; he's forgotten how to talk like he used to because now Alfred means so much more to him than he ever could've imagined he would. He'd started internalizing everything instead of talking, because if he'd voiced all his fears because experience, hell, just his life in general, had told him that Alfred would walk away. Everyone else had, why would he be different, he'd asked himself? And that had terrified him. But that just made everything worse, hadn't it? And now, now Alfred thinks Arthur—he thinks Arthur _wants_ to leave and everything's gotten so twisted around they're screaming at each other over shoes and clutter. It all seems so incredibly silly and avoidable that Arthur can only cover his face and take deep, shuddering breaths to try and keep himself from falling apart.

Alfred ends up walking over to him, because Alfred always ends up taking the first step and it's something Arthur loves about him, and his hands eventually are wrapping around his own, tugging them away from his face. He honestly looks surprised, which makes Arthur wonder how truly wrecked he must look, but he waits for Arthur to say something. And it's about time he does so, Arthur bolsters himself mentally.

"I love you too much to hate you… and that terrifies me."

That's all he gets out steady, and then he falls apart, Alfred's arms wrapping him up close. It's like just saying the words unleashed all the others he's been keeping inside, like unblocking a dam or unclogging a drain; neither of those analogies sound very pretty, though. Arthur has a hundred other metaphors he could use instead, but metaphors are just deflections, and he's done enough of that. So he just lets the rest of it out, spilling all the worries, fears, and dark thoughts that tumble around his head every day into the open for Alfred to see and hear. For his part, Alfred holds him through it. Arthur isn't keeping track of what he's saying exactly, and he's likely incoherent, but he can't stop. If he stops, he may never find the courage to say these words again and the consequences for that, _losing_ Alfred…it's not acceptable.

Saying the words out loud, words about breaking up and not being together, however vague he'd been doing it, it makes Arthur realize something. Arthur can't imagine how he ever thought that separating could've been an option, not one that can result in his happiness, in the wake of those words. Ever since Alfred had barged into his life with too big smiles and soft touches that remind Arthur of trite things like summer breezes and honey of all things, it's not been an option. From how Alfred's holding him so tight, shaking and gripping just a hair too hard across Arthur's shoulders, it's never been an option for him, either. And that's when Arthur realizes that maybe that's what Alfred has been trying to say all along with adopting Moonshine. Maybe he's been just as terrible at saying what he's needed to, like Arthur, and is just as terrified to boot. Arthur feels like, in another situation, he might've felt relieved and surreal in equal measures, but wrapped tight in Alfred's arms and spewing words, he's too occupied to focus on anything else.

He doesn't know how long he speaks for, but he does know that Alfred doesn't try to interject the whole while. He listens and holds Arthur until the words dry up and he's left exhausted and a mess, all tear tracks and runny nose. Alfred still waits, as if he wants to make absolutely sure Arthur has nothing further to say before starting himself, and only after a few, silent moments, does he speak. Arthur smiles, despite everything and the phlegm that's an unfortunate side-effect of being an unattractive crier, because he loves how Alfred surprises him with manners when he least expects it. When they count the most. Alfred's voice is low and barely above a whisper, and Arthur wonders if this is the same sort of tone he uses when calming skittish colts and horses in Texas. Arthur doesn't know why, but the thought is comforting, if it is the same tone—Alfred thinks horses are beautiful, it's nice being thought of on the same level in some fashion.

Listening to Alfred, Arthur thinks it's almost a little funny how similar their worries and fears are. Almost funny, but mainly scary, because they'd almost—well, Arthur doesn't much care to think about near misses, especially when he's going to make sure the 'almost' doesn't happen. Arthur stays silent for Alfred, only offering noises of encouragement or sympathy when Alfred prompts him for them, and he can feel Alfred slumping a little bit more into him with each sentence he gets out. They're somehow tucked into each other and on the floor, though Arthur can't begin to figure out how that happened, and he's shivering just a bit, despite the summer heat wave they're in. Alfred isn't crying, but his eyes are so damp that they almost appear to be shining—it's not really funny at all, Arthur decides.

"What now?" His question breaks the silence that envelopes them for a few moments after Alfred finishes, and Arthur wonders if he even should have asked it. Alfred tenses, just a little bit, and exhales heavily into Arthur's neck. Then, he starts to chuckle and Arthur pulls away to give him a stern look. "If you say 'make-up sex,' I'm banishing you to the sofa."

Alfred laughs harder and kisses Arthur once on the lips before leaning back and pushing up to his feet. He's still laughing when he extends a hand for Arthur to take; there's not much he can do but take it and smile back. "Though I like the idea, wasn't what I was thinking about, I was gonna ask if want to go on a walk or something. We could take Moony?"

Arthur considers the idea and meets Alfred's utterly hopefully expression. "We could take Moony."

"Yeah?"

"All right."

"Awesome! Okay, lemme just, just find him… and his leash. Can you get that? It's in the kitchen, I think."

Arthur nods and watches softly as Alfred bounds down the hall, calling for Moonshine all the way. Poor thing, they probably scared him right under the bed with all their yelling; he hopes Oliver hasn't hogged too much space. He walks to the kitchen and finds the leash quickly, shoved away into the drawer closest to the sink. Once in hand, he walks back to the living room and sits down, leash in hand, on the sofa to wait for Alfred. He can hear him struggling to get Moonshine from under there and he chuckles a little, a small helpless sound that sounds too wet for how happy he feels.

* * *

><p>He's glad Alfred had suggested a walk. He feels drained and mentally exhausted from their fight and the emotional fall-out which had soon followed. The world feels righted again, no longer off balance and jagged, and he's grateful for it, but his mind literally cannot handle anything else right now. Sex, as satisfying as he knows it will be, is not what he needs, not what Alfred needs; sex is always emotional between them, even in their most 'routine' of nights, and the last thing he wants is for one of them to start crying mid-thrust. And be 'one of them,' he means himself, because honestly, it will be him. It just complicates things, and that's possible why they went so long without it when they weren't speaking, and after a night where they'd just unloaded everything out into the open, they may be better but they're hardly sorted. A walk, though… maybe that will do the trick; maybe that will help them take the next step in the wake of tonight; maybe that will help them piece together what's broken without the echoes of their yells and hurtful anger hanging about them in the apartment.

Maybe.

"And here he is!" Alfred comes back into the room with Moonshine trailing after him. The puppy's ears are flicked back a little and his tail isn't wagging quite as enthusiastically as usual, but he looks cautiously optimistic in the way only a puppy can. "You want to go on a walk, right buddy? Right?"

Arthur gets up and lifts the leash so Alfred can see it. "Yes."

They hook the leash into Moonshine's collar and head out, smiling and holding hands; it feels warm and real.

The next morning is Saturday and they wake up tangled in each other, fully clothed still. Arthur can't remember feeling more rested in a long time; Moonshine's soft, puppy breaths are ghosting across the arch of his foot and Oliver is hogging up a good portion of Arthur's side. It forces him into Alfred's side, but neither of them are complaining. They had talked a bit more on their walk, less harsh and desperate than they'd been in the apartment; discussing family and past hurts that fueled current doubts had made everything clearer, to both of them. And when they'd gotten home, the air between them had shifted. They still feel that way; lighter, more open, and hours later the apartment is like home again. Wrapped up in one another, it's perfect and what they both want.

Moonshine whines and his paws twitch against the sheets; Arthur and Alfred look at each other before watching Moonshine chase his dreams in the gentle light of the early morning. They have plans today, of course. Arthur has an interview set up around noon, and Alfred has a study group planned for a test he's giving next week. They really shouldn't lie about all day, not when they have so much to do; they shouldn't ignore their commitments.

"Want to stay in today?"

Arthur smiles, small and slow, and leans in to press it to Alfred's. "All right."

Bugger responsibilities, he thinks. They've earned a lie about for the day. It's not every day one saves their relationship and discovers one another again—it should be celebrated. So it will, he decides, pressing a second, then third, then countless, kiss to Alfred with their puppy sleeping in between their feet.

TBC...

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><p>Just one more to go, lovelies! Remember, reviews are love, just like puppies!<p>

Osco


	6. Week Five

TITLE: Five Weeks aka How Long it Takes a Puppy to Change Everything  
>GENRE: Romanceangst, fluff  
>PAIRING(S): USUK, background barely there PrussiaHungary  
>RATING: PG-16<br>WARNINGS: relationship drama/angst, language, some sexy times, present tense, human names  
>SUMMARY: Sometimes, love just isn't enough to fix what's gone wrong-luckily, that's what puppies are there for. A story of breaking apart, coming together, and puppy-rearing. Warning: socks may have been harmed in the making of this<br>PROMPT: Alfred and Arthur adopt a puppy together.  
>NOTES: Done for the Secret Santa exchange at the USUK comm on LJ. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, lovely EllaCRose who beta'ed this story for me and did it with love! I went to town with this and went outside my usual comfort zone, but I'm very happy with the results. This story is completed and will be updated twice a week. Hope you all enjoy, especially you greeko88!<p>

NOTE 2: Well, we're at the end, lovelies! I want to thank the readers who've followed this and reviewed from the beginning, your words have truly meant so much to me! As this is the final chapter, I would love to know what you all thought of this story as a whole! Whether you reviewed every chapter, or lurked and liked from afar, I would love to hear what you thought! And, without further preamble, I bring to you the conclusion of our story!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Five Weeks<strong>_

aka How Long it Takes for a Puppy to Change Everything

_Week Five_

Things are better between them, better than they've been in months, and even though Arthur knows they have a ways to go, he's also happier than he's been in months. He can see that Alfred is, too, if the whistling and random hug-attack tackles upon Arthur's person when he's trying to dress are any indication. Work is still as stressful as it's always been, they still struggle to find the right words with each other, and they can stand to talk a little more about 'the things' they need to, but all the eggshells they'd been walking and around before are gone. The constant fear and dread that Arthur had been holding in is out of him and breathing is easier without those weighing him down. It's easier knowing that, knowing that they _can_ talk and work through their issues and still be together afterwards, knowing that Alfred will still want him despite the baggage and that Arthur will never stop wanting Alfred, despite his flaws.

It's a little funny. They've been together for three years, have had countless fights, but it's only now that they're learning how to really talk to one another. A fear of commitment, shared apartment, and puppy later, they're finally figuring it all out.

Arthur looks over at Alfred and smirks at his boyfriend as he attempts to keep a squirming Moonshine from yowling on his lap. Boyfriend seems too small a word to encompass all Alfred is to him, but he's not about to start using 'lover' or 'true love' in public. He can only imagine the teasing he will get if he does that, not just from Alfred and Elizaveta, either, because every person he knows will feel compelled to say something, he knows it. Moonshine squirms some more and his tail brushes against Arthur's arm before Alfred gets a good grip on him and settles him back down on his lap. He's cooing comfortingly to the puppy and ruffling at his drooped ears, trying to bolster his flagging spirits. Arthur can't blame Moonshine's attitude, though—he looks especially cute in his misery at being forced back to the veterinarian's office, all big eyes and mournful noises.

"Come on, Moony! It'll be over before you know it!" Alfred smiles bracingly at Moonshine again and is given a howl in response. The couple across from them with a spitting and growling cat in a carrier looks over at them in mutual exasperation and Arthur chuckles gently at the Alfred's frown. He reaches over and pats his knee gently.

"I don't think he's about to be appeased, love. Not when we've dragged him back to his least favorite place, especially after the Shampoo Incident."

"Yeah, I know, but I just want him to know that even though getting the second round of booster shots suck, he doesn't need to be scared, because we'll still be here and he won't even remember it after we get home and I give him all the treats he wants! You hear that, Moony? All the treats! Even those toothbrush ones we bought on the sly when your other dad wasn't looking!"

Arthur doesn't respond right away; he just stares and drinks Alfred in, reminds himself of all the reasons why he loves him, why he's happy and why his happiness is so inextricably tied up in Alfred. He lets himself remember that he doesn't need to imagine how he could ever possibly live without this gorgeous, caring, and wonderful man in his life, not anymore. Five weeks ago, he knows that's precisely where his mind would've gone to, but not anymore.

"I love you." Alfred looks up at him, slowly, and his smile is brilliant.

"I'd hope so." He settles his free hand over Arthur's and squeezes. "I love you too, you know. In case you were wondering."

Arthur returns the teasing grin. "I wasn't."

* * *

><p>Arthur's story on the tuition hikes is everything he'd wanted it to be. His editor loves it, and it's far better than the swill Francis came up with about rambunctious socialites, which is what he'd worked on while making Arthur finish up a filler story of his, so he and Alfred are celebrating. They don't go out for a fancy dinner, though they'd thought about it for all over two seconds, but they do order in Indian food and spend a ridiculous amount of time feeding each other naan bread, masala chicken, and lamb. It's better because each of them can focus solely on the other, and if they'd gone out, they wouldn't have been able to start crawling all over each other in the middle of a restaurant. At least not without incurring some sort of serious consequences. This is intimate and familiar and they're playing a movie in the background that neither of them is really watching. He almost feels like he's three years younger and on his third date with Alfred again; it makes every touch, every smile, and every heated glance electric in the air between them. Arthur's nearly drunk off it, off of food, success, and Alfred.<p>

"I'm so proud of you, sugar."

Alfred whispers the praise in between spicy kisses that taste like the potatoes he's eating and it's a little frightening how much the simple sentence affects him. He feels dizzy and his skin is flushed and he _wants_ Alfred's lips on every inch of him they can reach, and even more on the inches they can't with their clothes on. He wants his lips on every inch of Alfred, too. He doesn't want to make a mess on the carpet with the food, though, so he pulls away and gives Alfred a smile that feels a little too wide on his face. Alfred grins back and nips his nose playfully before settling down onto his rump, digging into the lamb korma with gusto.

"Thank you… I'm rather proud of myself at the moment as well. At least I beat out that frog bastard."

"I don't know why you helped with his other story if you hate him so much."

Arthur pops a piece of naan in his mouth with relish. "Because it makes the victory sweeter when I crush the smug wanker even after 'assisting' a senior writer like him."

Alfred laughs; it's a rich, deep, and sounds like what Arthur imagines honey might sound like. Christ, they're going to need to clean up the food and move into the bedroom or else they're never going to get their security deposit back. "Well, I bet he's not gonna bug you about helping him for awhile."

"Small favors."

They meet each other's eyes and then they're picking up food hurriedly as Moonshine barrels into the living room, his obnoxiously large dragon in his teeth. They get most of it, but Moonshine still manages to knock over a bowl of curry sauce; he lets go of the toy to sniff at his carnage, but Arthur swoops down to grab him before he can get too interested. Alfred scrubs at the sauce with his slightly used napkin, because Alfred has never been one to clean up while he's eating, he always waits until he's done because he doesn't see the point otherwise, and tries to fix Moonshine with a stern look. He fails miserably.

"Well, to the table?"

"To the table. Bugger, I really wanted that security deposit back."

"I think we screwed ourselves out of that when we decided to have that marathon sex day when Gilbert called us boring. Still your fault, by the way." Arthur scowls without much ire and smacks Alfred's shoulder as they pick up the remains of their food.

"You can barely see those stains anymore!"

"Yeah, because you moved the couch back like five inches to cover them." He leans over and kisses Arthur's cheek noisily. "If it makes a difference, I think that the stains were totally worth the security deposit."

"Git." He says the insult like he's saying love and smiles as he presses a return kiss to Alfred's palm once they set down the food.

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><p>"I think getting Moonshine was a really good decision." Arthur is boneless, sated, and barely awake enough to hear Alfred. He's curled tight across Alfred and breathing in the heady scent of sweat, sex, and them swirling in the room like a fog, weighing heavily on his eyelids and spine. He wants to sleep, wants to drift away and dream of nothing but them, maybe with Moonshine and Oliver because they're both up on the bed again, now that Alfred and Arthur aren't otherwise engaged anymore. He feels Alfred ask him if he heard, though, so he mumbles sleepily and props his head up a little on Alfred's chest to meet bright blue eyes, their color still vivid and distinct even in the dark of their room.<p>

"Hm?"

"Moony. Adopting him was a good thing, don't you think?"

"Mmhmm." It really has been a good decision, one of their better ones. Moonshine has changed their lives in so many ways and Arthur truly does believe that without him, he and Alfred would have continued ignoring everything until everything broke beyond fixing. He hadn't believed getting a puppy would help them before, but he knows different now. He's realized just how much of a difference one thing can make. Their 'thing' just happens to be a puppy who Arthur knows will never end up sleeping in any bed but their own, continue to destroy socks, and will eat things he shouldn't. A puppy who will grow into a beautiful dog who Arthur will love more than he'd ever imagined he would five weeks ago. If he hadn't already been so comfortable, he would have reached down to grab Moonshine from the foot of their bed just to hug him close and breath him in with everything else.

"I mean, he kind of got us to talk and stuff. We had to work together and that kind of got us back on the same page and everything, right?"

"Mmm…"

"…and you think I'll look really awesome walking around the campus in just my boxers, huh?"

"…whatev'r you want l've." Arthur feels Alfred's chest vibrate under his cheek and his laughter is one of the last things he hears as sleep drags him down fully.

"G'night, Artie. Love you."

And Arthur does - love Alfred, that is. Alfred, Moonshine, Oliver on most days, the family and life he's built for himself despite everything—so much.

He falls asleep happy and full of love.

_Finis._

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><p>Reviews are love.<p> 


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